


Nothing To Lose But You

by EpiKatt



Series: Soap/Price rewrite [2]
Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Communication, Escape, Explosions, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Military, Minor Character Death, Panic, Sharing a Bed, Smoking, Terrorism, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpiKatt/pseuds/EpiKatt
Summary: A rewrite of Soap's ending in MW3, except he's not quite done...
Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/John Price
Series: Soap/Price rewrite [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844122
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the sequel! A lot of stuff has happened which made me lose any and all urges to write, so apologies for the wait. I'm honestly not sure how long chapter 2 will be, I'm guessing longer and I'm going to try and work on it tomorrow (as it is 2 am) but I'm not sure when I'll upload it.
> 
> Happy 40th fic of mine! Boy howdy it's been a long three years of fanfiction! I hope you enjoy the fic, as I've had a lot of fun writing for these sad bastards.
> 
> (Unbeta'd [who's surprised? not me] and the title is also from Three Days Grace)

Soap was bored. Plain and simple. He and Yuri had been sitting on this bloody tower for hours and eventually the adrenaline wore out and left behind exhaustion and a near crippling sense of boredom.

The slightly chilly October air would annoy him more if he weren’t already distracted. Distracted by nothing, really, as he could only watch Yuri strip his gun and put it back together so many times before he snapped at him to stop. So really he wasn’t distracted, he was just ignoring the chill in favor of wondering if he and Price would get out of this alive, and Yuri if he could spare it. He and Price were priority, though. He glanced over at the stoic Russian beside him and found a small tendril of amusement. It would be rather nice to keep him around.

Movement caught his eye and he immediately turned to it, watching the cars get nearer. It was time. He picked up his gun and peered out before turning to Yuri, all business.

“The meeting will be on the second floor,” he said quickly, watching Yuri set up his rifle and settle a bit more comfortably on the dusty boards.

“Heads up. Makarov’s convoy is arriving now,” Price said into the comm lowly. Soap would never admit it, but the man’s voice soothed some of his more frazzled nerves, made the aching against his sternum settle a bit. 

Soap’s eyes scanned the road before murmuring back into the comm. “I see it. Four armored vehicles. No sight of Makarov yet.”

A pause came as the vehicles slowed, before stopping.

“Do you see him?” Price asked.

“Aye. There’s the bastard. Third vehicle,” Soap replied, disdain filling his tone.

Soap’s heart started thudding harder when he could have  _ sworn  _ Makarov was looking directly at him.

“Shite. I think he’s looking right at us,” he said quietly, voice shaky.

“Easy. Just sit tight,” Price murmured. Soap swallowed and fought to keep his nerves at bay. There was no room for mistakes, no room for anxiety or doubt or fear. Those could wait, when Makarov was dead and he and Price could take a nice little vacation to somewhere with sun and soft beds and big showers.

“They’re pulling into the garage now,” Soap informed, watching Yuri follow the convoy through his scope.

“Alright, Kamarov. You’re up,” Price instructed.

There was no answer. The unease Soap had forced down reared its head. The mission couldn’t afford to go wrong already, they were so  _ close.  _

“Kamarov, do you read me?” Price growled.

“Probably forgot to switch it on,” Soap muttered, desperately searching for an excuse. He caught Yuri giving him an incredulous look and glared back at him.

“Doesn’t matter. Makarov’s here. We move forward with the plan,” Price ordered. Soap would rather not, feeling like it was doomed from the start, but he’d follow Price into hell if they had even the slightest chance of climbing back out.

“I’m in position. Ready?”

“Yuri, find Price in your scope,” Soap said, wanting to be able to see what happened from there.

“He’s on top of the hotel,” he added after another moment’s thought. 

Soap saw when Yuri found Price and nodded. 

“We got you,” he confirmed.

“We got some activity on the balcony,” Soap cautioned, unsure of if Price had seen them or not.

He watched Price rope down with ease and couldn’t help but be impressed.

“We’ll take them out together, Yuri. On you,” he decided, bringing his own weapon up and looking through the scope to see the men on the balcony, waiting for Yuri to take the shot.

It took less than a moment for Yuri to fire the first shot, taking out one while Soap hurriedly did the last two.

He saw Price descend the rest of the way and break through the glass and begin shooting. Soap couldn’t help the slight smirk on his face at seeing a very proficient Price. He was helpless to a capable man and Price was exactly that.

Yuri gave supporting fire for a minute before Price cleared the room and the lift doors opened.

Soap frowned. “What the hell? Price, who is that?” He was unable to get a clear view of who was in there.

“Kamarov,” Price said shortly.

“I’m sorry, Price,” Kamarov said softly into the comm.

Something settled in Soap’s gut.  _ This isn’t right. _

“Captain Price.”  _ Hell awaits you. _

_ Fuck! _

“Price! Get out of there!” He cried desperately, unable to do anything.

Soap hardly finished his sentence before the building shuddered and smoke billowed out with an explosion. Soap slung his gun over his shoulder, ready to run down and find Price.

“Yuri, my friend. You never should have come here.” Makarov.  _ What? _

“What the hell’s he talking about?!” He demanded, watching Yuri clamber to his feet, face pale.

His eyes were drawn to a red flashing on the other side of the room.  _ Oh hell. _

“Get out! Now!” He shouted, already halfway to the edge of the building. He and Yuri jumped at the same time, the explosion throwing them down into the wooden walkways. They fell at a rapid speed, slamming through the wood and falling against metal before hitting the ground with a thump.

Soap could hardly think through the pain, he vaguely felt something heavy land on him, but the searing pain in his chest and an aching throughout the rest of him drowned it out. He knew with complete certainty through the haze that he’d ripped his stitches clean apart. He also knew that while the wound wasn’t as deep as it was, it was torn wide enough to bleed like hell.

_ Price….. _

It seemed like ages later but he heard through buzzing ears a distant,  _ “Soap!” _

A moment later and the crushing weight above him was removed, making him realize how hard it was to breathe previously and how hard it still was.  _ Broken ribs… _

His eyes were half open when Price dragged him onto his back. “You’re alright! Look at me!” he demanded. Soap blinked and Price was gone, prompting a confused frown.

“Yuri! Grab him, we have to move now!” 

The words hardly registered before he was being hauled up, white hot agony shooting through him and causing a high pitched keen to escape his mouth. He had no room for dignity at this point, he could barely muster the thought to keep his legs beneath him.

“Yuri.. Makarov… he said.” But he could hardly get the words out, his lungs weren’t cooperating and there was the strong taste of blood in his mouth. Price was already too far ahead, prompting Yuri to move faster and making Soap desperately try to stay upright.

The next few minutes were a red blur filled with gunfire. At some point he heard Price order Yuri to set him down and he was practically dropped, back thudding against a dumpster. He groaned loudly and tried to blink the blur away.

“Just patch me up, get me back in this,” Soap said hoarsely. He could feel the blood spreading across his chest, feel how tight his chest was getting and now dizzy he was. He didn’t know if he could make it to a safepoint without some sort of patch up.

Soap could see Price’s indecision. They weren’t safe, nowhere near it, but he also knew Soap might not make it.

Price let out a growl of frustration and threw his gun at Yuri, ripping out a wad of bandages from an inner pocket and crouching in front of Soap. Soap gave a tired grin as Price tore open his shirt and began frantically applying bandages and taping them down.

“At least take me to dinner first,” Soap joked weakly, glancing nervously at Yuri who was pointedly looking away from them.

Price snorted as he added layer after layer of bandages. “Reminds me of some other place, eh?” he muttered, pulling away to survey his work. “Your ribs are broken, but those’ll have to wait. We need to get moving,” Price murmured, bringing a hand up to rub his thumb against Soap’s cheekbone. Soap leaned into the touch and locked eyes with Price. The pain faded to the background for a moment. 

“I love you,” Soap said lowly, nearly inaudible.

Price’s face hardened. “Stay with me,” he growled, wrapping an arm around Soap and dragging him back up.

“We need Nikolai… to get us out,” he gasped, ribs grinding against each other, even as he was refilled with purpose, reminded of what he had to live for.

Price didn’t reply and instead said something else. “That chopper’s coming back around! We need to move!” 

Soap zoned out once more, clinging weakly to Price’s side as they crossed town while Yuri defended them.

At one point, someone was sneaking up on them and Soap brought up his pistol, arm heavy and uncoordinated even as he fired the shot that killed the man.

“Nice shot, love” Price complimented breathlessly. 

“I can still teach you a thing or two, old man,” Soap grunted, readjusting his grip on Price and moving forward.

As they went on, Soap could feel himself weakening, but knew with absolute certainty that it would be dripping onto the ground if not for Price’s hasty patch up, knew his chances weren’t great but would have been worse. His knee buckled at one point and he growled, forcing it to work while Price desperately dragged him along.

“Hold on! We’re nearly there!” Price yelled, setting a disoriented Soap onto the ground as he fired, reinforcements quickly arriving and thinning out the enemy troops. 

He swallowed, mouth feeling fuzzy. Price quickly came back and pulled Soap to his feet, though Price was holding up most of his weight. 

“Yuri! We need to move Soap! Get over here and cover us!” Price ordered, beginning to take Soap into the neighboring building.

“We’ve got wounded! Get him inside!” Soap heard Price tell the nearby soldiers, but he could barely hold himself up, doing it as it was out of sheer will.

They came into a room, Yuri shoving everything off the table so he and Price could set him on it to give him a more permanent fix.

As they set him down, he saw his vision darkening and looked at Price helplessly, pleading with his eyes to be saved. He didn’t want to die.

“Soap, I’ll fix this don’t worry,” Price said urgently, turning behind him to yell; “medic!”

Soap swallowed once more, muscles convulsing violently to do the ordered task. “Price… Yuri…”

“Not now, Soap, just rest,” Price insisted. A soldier quickly ran up with a box. 

“We don’t have a medic, but Rogers found a first aid kit,” he explained, handing it over to Price who took it and tore it open, pulling out supplies.

Soap closed his eyes for a moment but was shaken roughly by Price.

“C’mon! Stay with me, love!” he cried, pulling the soaked bandages off and pressing fresh one’s on the open wound.

Soap’s eyes wouldn’t focus but he managed to stay awake, unwilling to die, unwilling to leave Price behind, unwilling to leave Makarov alive.

Price pulled off the bandages and grabbed one of the small vials of alcohol and pouring it on Soap’s chest, causing him to cry out and arch his back, adrenaline pumping once more.

Not even a moment later was Price frantically pressing staples to his chest, and Soap was already in so much pain he could barely feel them digging into his skin.

It took a few moments for Price to close the gaping wound to a more maintainable size and then press more bandages onto the fresh staples and tape them there.

Soap’s vision began to darken again, but he could feel his heart thumping more strongly against his chest and hoped he was just passing out and not  _ dying.  _ He still had one more thing left to say just in case, though.

“Price..” he said, urging his voice to stay steady. “You need to know…” His hand reached up and weakly grabbed Price’s vest where Price’s larger hand enveloped his, holding it tightly.

“Makarov… knows… Yuri…” he finished before collapsing against the table in exhaustion, eyes drifting close.

Price’s panicked face was the last thing he saw before he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice little resolution all wrapped in a bow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Or is it? Who knows! I'm considering writing a short thing covering the events in these fics in Price's POV, but I'm still not sure on that one. Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy the smattering of beautiful angst and fluff, I had a lot of fun writing this. 
> 
> [Unbeta'd as well and please excuse any ooc it's so hard to tell with these lunatics.]

**_“There’s a clocktower in Hereford where the names of the dead are inscribed. We try to honor their deeds even as their faces fade from our memory. Those memories are all that’s left, when the bastards have taken everything else.”_ **

_ But not Soap. Not now, not ever. _

**_“What happened?”_ **

**_“He messed up Soap. He’s out, Mac.”_ **

**_“What do you need from me, son?”_ **

**_“A location. Our Russian says Makarov used to cache weapons at an old castle near Prague. He’s got nothing more solid than that.”_ **

**_“Can you trust him?”_ **

**_“What choice do I have? He’s got his own reasons for wanting Makarov dead. Place ring any bells?”_ **

**_“Aye. We ran drones over a suspect castle back in Zakhaev’s day, but we never got wind of our targets visiting the area.”_ **

**_“What am I up against?”_ **

**_“The place is a fortress. Only one way in or out--unless you’ve learnt to fly. Security office on the far side of the compound, and a command center North of that. Both were heavily guarded. If Makarov’s there, he’ll be in that control room.”_ **

**_“What’s this you’re sending me?”_ **

**_“Equipment list.”_ **

**_“That’s a lot of hardware, John. What’d you plan on doin’?”_ **

**_“What you taught me to do…”_ **

**_“Kill ‘em all.”_ **

_ And that bastard Soap better still be alive when I get back. _

  
  
  


Soap woke up to silence. The heart monitor was even silent, as he saw the clip on his finger. He frowned and struggled to sit up but let out a harsh shout of pain, immediately going back to the previous, less painful position. 

He panted quietly and clutched the sheets with a sneer on his face. 

_ Damn it all, back in the bloody hospital. And where’s Price? _

There was a button beside the bed and he pressed it, assuming it was for the nurses. He knew he assumed correctly when a nurse walked in and eyed him. 

“Finally awake, I see,” he said with a frown, looking at his chart and then the monitors. He had a faint Russian accent.

“Where’s Price?” Soap demanded, a frankly sad sight looking angry while lying against a bunch of pillows with several tubes connected to him. He could hardly look less intimidating if he tried.

The nurse didn’t look amused. He replaced a bag of blood, Soap guessed, before letting out an irritated sigh and turning back to Soap.

“Well, he went to hunt down Makarov a few days ago. Last time I heard, he and Yuri had tracked him down to a hotel in the Arabian Peninsula. They’re heading there now, if I remember correctly,” he relayed, making sure the pain meds were still coming steady before straightening up.

Soap’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. “They found Makarov and just  _ left me here?”  _ Soap growled, forcing his exhausted body into an upright position, ignoring how his ribs creaked ominously.

The nurse just stared at him, face unimpressed. “Sir, you were being reminded how to breathe not more than twelve hours ago. Your ribs are twice as many as before and your old stab wound, which, frankly, should have kept you out of combat longer, had the stitches tear. To put it simply; you were and  _ are  _ in no condition to be anywhere but this bed,” the nurse said. “Now, are you hungry?”

Soap, mollified for now, huffed. “Yes,” he said quietly.

The nurse nodded. “Good. Just lie here like a good boy and you’ll be up and around in no time,” he stated, turning and leaving.

Soap slumped back into the pillows, anxiety and worry churning in his gut. He was thankful for the pain killers; they gave him room to worry over Price.

_ Bastard better see this through. He promised me a vacation. _

  
  
  


Soap heard the next day that Price had been admitted to a hospital several hundred miles away. Soap was frustrated, he was desperate to see him, see how he was, hold him tight. The thought of marriage even crossed his mind, but he instinctively recoiled at the thought of a ceremony. Going to a courthouse in their uniforms and simply signing the papers sounded perfect. That was, of course, dependent on whether Price actually agreed. 

He sighed and glared at the ceiling. 

_ We’ll see each other. Soon. _

  
  
  


It was two weeks before Soap was allowed to get out of bed for anything other than physical therapy, and he spent most of his time badgering anyone who would listen to bring Price there. Eventually, it worked. One of the Russian doctors (he’d been put in a Russian hospital) finally relented and sent a message to Price’s doctors and requested he be sent there. 

When Soap was informed that Price would be there the next day, he demanded a haircut, unwilling to be seen without his signature mohawk.

  
  
  


Soap was given a crutch and he used it to his best ability to hobble over to the room Price had been put in. They wouldn’t let him see the other man until he’d been settled in, but Soap was impatient and dammit he missed his man.

Pushing through the door and seeing Price looking frustrated but  _ alive,  _ had something warm curling in his chest. Rationally, he’d known Price was alive, but seeing it himself made it all the more real. He shut the door behind him and limped the last few steps to the chair beside Price’s bed and fell into it, grinning tiredly when Price turned to his with a raised eyebrow.

“So, what’re you in for?” Soap asked, refusing to acknowledge how breathless he sounded.

Price chuckled roughly, wincing a little. “They tell you what happened to me?”

“No, just said you were admitted. Been waiting to hear the story from the man who finally killed the target instead of me,” Soap mused, thinking back to Zakhaev and Shepherd.

Price rolled his eyes but his smile still stayed in place. “Ha ha ha, we get it,” Price muttered. Soap motioned for him to continue his earlier story and Price decided to listen.

“Yuri and I tracked him down to a hotel in the Arabian Peninsula. I’m assuming you heard about what happened to Yuri?” Soap nodded. “Right. We blasted through before an explosion took Yuri and half the building down while Makarov tried escaping on a chopper. I chased him to the roof and pull a James Bond move by jumping onto the chopper and brought it down, s’how I got these burns,” he explained, holding up his wrapped forearms to show. 

“To put it short, Makarov grabs my gun before me but Yuri, previously impaled, shoots Makarov before being shot himself. I tackle Makarov and wrap a metal rope around his neck and break through the glass to hang him. After that I smoked a cigar while waiting for the authorities,” he finished.

Soap met Price’s expectant gaze thoughtfully before reaching forward and bringing Price’s hand to him, kissing his bruised knuckles gently with a slight smile.

“Still doesn’t tell me everything about why you’re in here,” Soap reminded, looking pointedly at the bandages peeking out from his shirt.

Price followed his gaze and snorted. “Blimey, our ribs can’t catch a break, eh?”

Soap just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Price sighed and looked back to the TV. “Some cuts and bruises all over, other shoulder was dislocated, more broken ribs, little bit of internal bleeding,” he listed off, shifting a little. “Now, last time I saw you, you were on a ventilator and still in critical, gotta remind me you’re doin’ alright,” he prodded, tugging on Soap’s hand gently.

Rolling his eyes and steeling himself, Soap stood up, balanced on one leg, and snogged the life out of Price, holding nothing back. He pushed all the anxiety and longing and pride into the kiss before pulling away breathless, glad to see Price in the same state.

“M’fine, Price. Woke up right before your little excursion to Oasis. Waiting to hear back from you probably took more years off my lifespan over everything else that’s happened to me,” Soap murmured, voice turning mocking near the end.

Price’s grip tightened where their hands were still locked. “Don’t you bloody dare try and pull something like you did ever again,” he growled.

Soap laughed and kissed Price’s knuckles again, knowing the other man liked it. “Could say the same thing for you, old man. Now, you promised us a vacation, and I think we’re due one,” Soap declared.

Price groaned and dropped his head back. “Can’t believe you remember that,” he muttered. “Where’d you wanna go then?”

Soap leaned back, thinking. “I’ve got a flat in Cardiff that should be fine,” he suggested. 

“Thought you’d want a beach or something. More tourist activities.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed and he turned to glare at Price. “I’m not a woman,” he snapped, tempted to pull his hand away but unwilling to do so. They’d just gotten each other back.

Price at least had the right mind to look sheepish. “Apologies, love. Brain’s a bit scrambled from… everything.”

“I’ll take the excuse for now,” he decided. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the Russian news with English subtitles. All they could talk about, even this much later was Makarov’s death. They never mention who killed him. 

Soap stood back up and pulled his hand from Price’s to nudge his dozing form. “Budge over,” he demanded.

Price blinked at him. “Is that allowed?”

“I’ve been here long enough they won’t complain,” he countered. Price huffed but obliged, shuffling to the other side of the bed while Soap crawled in beside him.

Even though they were lying at uncomfortable angles to have room and alleviated pressure on their ribs, they were happy. Soap had missed this, sharing a bed with Price. The hospital bed had seemed so empty, knowing Price was hurt elsewhere.

He missed having Price’s body wash filling his nose (missing for now). He missed Price’s beard tickling various areas of him depending on how they were laying (and what they were doing). Missed Price comforting him after a nightmare, or comforting Price after he had one. Missed Price singing Queen obnoxiously in his ear to wake him up. He’d just missed Price.

Soap stretched up to kiss the back of Price’s neck gently before settling back down to sleep.

“G’night, love,” Price murmured.

“G’night, Price,” Soap replied, voice just as soft.

They both shifted a little more before deciding that was the best they were gonna get and settling. 

Not long passed until they were both snoring loudly enough to draw Soap’s nurse in to see what the noise was. He walked in before drawing short, crossing his arms in exasperation. 

“Maybe now he’ll stop asking me how that insufferable bastard is,” he muttered, turning off the light and leaving. Someone’ll scold them later, but he was about off for the day and didn’t want to bother.

  
  
  
  


It took nearly two more weeks for Soap and Price to be cleared to leave, but the boredom was filled with physical therapy and rest for their poor ribs. When they finally left, Soap wasted no time in getting the first flight to Wales they were capable of catching. 

Price fell asleep almost as soon as they were on the plane, while Soap stayed awake to watch over the older man, knowing he was silently entrusted with the task.

  
  
  


They were a few days into the vacation and still hadn’t left the flat. Soap couldn’t be angry, though, as they’d been making up for lost time with everything that had happened, and their libidos had come roaring back. 

They’d had a fairly long evening when Price had his first nightmare. Soap would later attribute it to the trauma finally setting in once his mind registered that he was capable of handling them. As it was, Soap snapped awake the second he felt Price jerk upright. 

He blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust in the dim room. “Price? What’s wrong?” he asked hoarsely, struggling to get his body to listen and let him sit up as well. He heard Price’s ragged breathing next to him and frowned. “Love?”

“You died,” Price said quietly, voice emotionless. Soap froze, concern shooting through him.

“No, I didn’t. M’right here,” Soap said hurriedly, reaching for Price’s arm and holding it tightly. When Price didn’t respond, Soap tugged on his arm to make Price look at him. “Price, you saved me, I’m fine. We shagged less than three hours ago after we ordered some rubbish takeout,” Soap said lowly, urgently, trying to get through to Price.

Price blinked slowly at Soap, breathing finally slowing down before he practically leapt at Soap. Soap jerked back out of instinct before allowing a shaky Price to grip him tightly and drag him closer. 

Price didn’t start crying, but he certainly didn’t complain to Soap muttering random things into the man’s ear to comfort him. 

It took a while for Price to calm down, and Soap only knew he did when he felt him slowly relaxing. Price continued to stay silent but gently grasped Soap’s jaw and turned his face to kiss him gently. It was chaste, merely a symbol of thanks more than anything else, but it still made Soap give a slightly dopey smile when Price pulled away.

“Thanks, love,” Price murmured, giving a final kiss to his cheek before lying back down, Soap following suit.

Soap settled a little closer than before. He waited for Price’s breathing to even out before he fell asleep as well.

  
  
  


They finally decided on going out to dinner in a nice Italian place not too far from the flat. They’d sat down and begun talking like normal, and had gotten their food before Soap brought something up that snagged Price’s attention.

“Was thinkin’ about getting a cat some time,” Soap said, taking a bite of his ravioli before looking up when he was met with silence. He frowned after swallowing. “What? This shouldn’t come as any surprise; you know how much I hate dogs after having been their chew toys so much,” Soap said dryly.

Price rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get it. Was just thinking about how much I dislike dogs too, though under different circumstances,” Price replied, taking a sip of his pint happily. “I’ve told you about Chernobyl, right?”

“Yeah, way back when. Why?”

“While me an’ MacMillan were there, we came across a dog tearing a dead man’s leg off. Never settled right in me, dunno why,” Price admitted, going back to his food while Soap pondered that over.

“Doesn’t answer my question on whether you’d want a cat. We have to retire eventually, you especially, old man,” Soap mused, watching Price roll his eyes.

“Sure, why not? Doesn’t seem like a horrible idea, better than a dog or a kid,” Price relented, waving his fork about a little before digging back into his spaghetti.

“Not the reception I was expecting, but good enough,” Soap said with a sigh.

  
  
  


It was near the end of their vacation when Soap stood on the balcony smoking, leaning against the railing when Price came out as well. Soap glanced over at him before looking back at the lights twinkling in the distance while taking another drag, exhaling it slowly. He always said that if the military didn’t kill him, he’d give up cigarettes. He wasn’t sure if he’d stick with it, but it was something to consider.

Price pulled out a cigar, and Soap snorted at the thought of Price giving those up. Fact was, he wouldn’t.

“You’ve been thinking about it too, haven’t you?” Soap finally said, taking another drag. The scent of Price’s cigar blew over to him but he didn’t mind.

“Yeah,” Price replied, sounding reluctant. 

“You think they’ll let us build another team?”

All was silent for a moment as Price considered. “Not sure. Might as well ask, now that our names are cleared.”

Soap hummed thoughtfully. “Know we can’t replace Ghost or Roach, but I do miss having a team,” Soap said quietly, exhaling some smoke roughly, feeling it burn on its exit.

He felt Price settle a warm hand on his lower back, stepping closer so their shoulders brushed. “I know, love. I do as well.”

Soap relished in the light comfort for a few minutes, slowly finishing his fag before dropping it to the ground and grinding his heel down on it.

“Either way, we need to pack, and no, we aren’t sharing a suitcase. Last time we did, my white shirt had some suspicious stains that were most definitely not from my things,” Soap stated, side eyeing Price pointedly, who at least had the gall to look away sheepishly.

Soap grinned and patted Price’s back hard enough to startle the man, grin turning sly. “And I’m not helping you cram all your rubbish into your suitcase either!” he called as he walked inside, shutting the door with a snicker.

Back to the battlefield they went, but at least now Shepherd and Makarov were gone, and a third world war wasn’t looming over their backs.

Soap peeked out when he heard a noise and caught Price shaking his hand wildly. Soap knew Price had burned his hand and let out a bark of laughter, shaking his heads while continuing to fold his laundry as small as possible so as to fit in the small suitcase.

And yeah, they both had their problems. Price still hadn’t processed his time in the Gulag and Soap still hadn’t quite gotten over his two latest near-death experiences, but they were still working out the kinks. As it were, things were good now, and they were happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a kudos they are how I fuel myself to do literally anything, including making you fools content. I need to stop writing at 2 am but whatever.
> 
> Gonna say this is dedicated to my European friend bc even tho she knows nothing about COD she tolerated me talking about these dumb idiots. Thank you 🥺

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave a kudos and a comment if you'd like. This fandom/ship is so small and I seek so much validation. I'm not sure if I'll write another part to the series (other than chapter 2) so keep a look out!


End file.
